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You don’t know me. We have never met. But I am writing to you today about a man we both know — Nick Spano.

I’ve ragged on Nick for years. Mostly it was about his crafty talent for pursuing power and patronage. I take none of it back, though it’s true that I went a bit overboard about his weight. “You’re always calling me fat!” he complains whenever I see him.

Once I described him as “Falstaffian.” Nick told me himself that he had to look up the word, but I only meant it in the sense that Nick is jovial and always good for a laugh, even if the joke is on him.

Anyway, considering all the criticism I’ve heaped on the guy, it may come as a surprise to you that I hope you’ll go easy when you sentence him this month.

Not that he needs my two cents. He’s got plenty of friends and associates who’ve already asked you to take into account the many good things he’s done in his life.

As you are aware, scores of letters have landed on your desk. One of those letters came from William and Patricia Saich, the executive directors of the School for Adaptive and Integrative Learning (SAIL) at Ferncliff Manor in Yonkers.

Founded in 1935, SAIL is a nonprofit residential and day school that serves 66 children with severe autism and other developmental disabilities.

The Saiches wrote that when Nick was chairman of the state Senate Committee on Mental Health and Developmental Disabilities, he “was always there ... and went out of his way to offer his assistance and support to us in our efforts to improve our services to our students.”

Several examples were cited. But one is especially worth mentioning.

When SAIL held its 70th anniversary party and had little money for the celebration, Nick found out about it and came to the rescue.

“Obviously, he knew that it would be a very small group so he was not looking for any political gains, but sure enough he came and spoke to the gathering during a time when he had a lot of very pressing items on his busy senatorial agenda,” the Saiches wrote. “He graciously took his time and made us feel so important and recognized. We will always remember that kindness.”

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They really mean that. As a matter of fact, not long after Nick pleaded guilty in March to the charge that he avoided paying $53,000 in federal income taxes, the Saiches repaid his loyalty by keeping him on their pre-planned list of honorees for a March 17 dinner held at the Tarrytown House.

That’s not in their letter to you.

But get this, judge. Here’s the kicker. When Nick was asked if he preferred anyone in particular to be the event’s master of ceremonies, he replied yes. He wanted me for the job. Me!

I turned it down for a few reasons, one being that I thought he was kidding. Since then I have gotten it on good authority that Nick was sincere and that I had it wrong and that the invitation extended to me was yet another example of Nick’s capacity to be magnanimous.

But let’s talk about the capacity to be lenient. Nick’s lawyers say he should be sentenced to no more than six months in prison for the tax fraud — though your federal guidelines call for 12 to 18 months.

Frankly, I think an argument could be made that Nick shouldn’t go to jail at all, but I’ll second the opinion of his attorneys. And in doing so, I’d ask you to take a look at the punishment meted out to some other local figures who got caught for doing worse things than Nick ever did.

Start with state Sen. Guy Velella, the kickback artist. He was sentenced to a year.

Al Pirro served 17 months, thanks to time off for a good behavior. His tax fraud was so big, it makes Nick’s crime look like a shoplifting rap by comparison.

Vinnie Leibell got 21 months, and you and I both know he won’t serve the full sentence.

Throw Velella, Pirro and Leibell on one side of the scales of justice and Nick on the other and there’s no way they balance out as crooks of equal magnitude — and that’s not a fat joke. Nick weighs in at six months, and probably a lot less.

This can’t go into your thinking, but isn’t it amazing how much time and money the feds spent on investigating Nick and all they got him on was income tax fraud?

Add that to the cost of prosecuting other headline-grabbing cases on the federal front, e.g. John Edwards and Roger Clemens, that at best have confused the juries and at worst put them to sleep, and you have to get a little mad.

Before Nick Spano goes to jail for his transgressions, I’d like to see just one — just one — of the Wall Street bankers be put behind bars for damaging the nation’s economy. Like you, I am not holding my breath.

Well, your honor, I’m sure I haven’t done much to persuade you one way or another.

But I should mention one more thing. Six years ago, Nick wrote to congratulate my son for getting an award at his college. Coincidentally, he is also named Nick.

For a long time the letter was proudly displayed on our kitchen bulletin board. We still have it.